Parental Nightmare
by Penny Nama
Summary: A blast from Michael's past surprises the team
1. Chapter 1

Maddie was deep in thought when a knock at the door brought her back to reality. She sat on the couch, disoriented for a minute, until she heard the second, more persistent knock at the front door. After a quick check through the peephole, she opened the door for a teenage girl. "What can I do for you?" Maddie asked kindly, sure the girl was selling candy or wrapping paper for some sports team or school project, although she didn't recognize her from the neighborhood. "I'm so sorry to bother you Mrs. Westen, but I am trying to locate, your son, Michael." Maddie was instantly wary. When Michael returned to Miami, she had quickly learned to be very careful around people looking for her son. The young woman on her doorstep looked like any teenager you might find hanging out at the mall. Her dark hair was carefully arranged into a stylish pixie cut, she had big hoop earrings, and applied her makeup lightly to accent her brown eyes and high cheekbones. She had a large messenger bag over her shoulder that was bulging in ways that made Maddie uncomfortable.

Sasha knew from the way Mrs. Westen was considering her; she had been too direct. She should have thought of a more subtle way to find Michael's location, but she had been too impatient. She hadn't seen him in over five years, not since she and Damian had run into him in Uzbekistan, six months before he was burned. With Damian gone, she needed Michael's help.

"Why are you looking for Michael?" Maddie asked. She wished Sam were around to help her vet this girl. She looked safe and innocent enough, but she knew things were never as they appeared. Sasha was expecting this question, but hadn't decided which answer to use. She tried to look as innocent as she could and mumbled as she looked at the ground, "He's my father." This wasn't true at least not biologically, but her biological father had died when she was less then a year old and she figured it would be the response most likely to get her Michael's location.

This was not the answer Maddie was expecting. It wasn't even in the same universe as any of the answers she had been expecting. They had been through this whole mess before when Samantha had shown up out of the blue and had led Michael to believe that they had a son together. He had promised that he didn't have any children floating around out there, at least not that he knew of. And she had thought that at least for once, he was being honest with her. Maybe she had misheard the girl so she said, "Excuse me?"

Sasha raised her head and looked into Maddie's eyes, searching them for a minute before she repeated, "Michael Westen is my father." Maddie returned Sasha's gaze before asking, "How do you know he's your father?" Sasha smiled, hoping this was working and that soon she and Michael would be on their way back to Afghanistan to find out what happened to Damian. "He raised me when I was little, I have pictures." Sasha pulled out her phone. She had bought it less than 24 hours ago when she landed state-side, but she knew where the pictures were. Even better, the pictures were authentic.

Michael and Damian were partners, running covert ops in Chechnya when her parents were killed in a car accident. Sasha was only 10 months old. Damian was her uncle, her mother's brother. He ended up with custody of her and took her back to Chechnya with him after the funeral. The three of them ran ops together for two more years before Michael and Damian were sent to different areas. Michael and Damian kept in touch and would work together whenever they could. Michael taught her how to hotwire a car when she was five. Her first word was пистолет, "gun" in Russian her second was بابا، باباجان ، اقاجان or "Dad" in Farsi. When she was seven, Michael taught her how to drive a stick shift. It was hard because she couldn't really touch the pedals or even see over the steering wheel, but they made it work.

She found the photo of her and Michael when she turned two. He was helping her blow out the birthday candles on a piroshky, and handed the phone to Maddie.

The picture was grainy, but there was no doubt it was Michael. A much younger Michael, but Michael. It even appeared to be the same girl. The girl showed her three more pictures. All of them were of Michael and this girl: reading books, playing at a park, asleep on the couch. Maddie was angry. While the pictures, even if they were real, didn't prove Michael was this girl's father, it was a window into his life…all those years that she knew so little about.

Whether it was her anger at Michael or her distrust of this girl, she roughly handed the phone back to Sasha and said, "Michael doesn't have any children." And slammed the door.

Frustrated, Sasha sat down under a tree down the block and across the street from Madeline's house. She could have stolen or even rented a car to get here, but there was something about public transit she liked. And she had run through a lot of credit cards to get to this point and didn't know if this would be the end of her search for Michael. Besides, technically at fifteen, she wasn't supposed to be driving anyway.

As she sat down she smiled as she heard Maddie's voice carry across the street. She had contemplated trying to place some bugs, but it seemed they weren't necessary.

Maddie had slammed the door and immediately lit a cigarette. She almost opened the door to get the girl to come back, but instead she called Michael. "Michael. What is going on?" she demanded when Michael answered on the fourth ring.

"What are you talking about? What's happened?" he replied. Usually his mother's panicked phone calls were just cries for attention, but every now and then something had actually happened. The key was telling the two apart and some days it didn't matter how good of a spy you were, you just couldn't tell. "Ma, now is really not a very good time. Fi and I are in the middle of a meeting."

"Michael, you promised me…after Samantha you promised me you didn't have any kids."

"What? I don't. Where did that come from? What is going on?" He was confused. Someone had spooked his mom by telling her he had kids? It was a good thing the meeting he was supposedly having was just helping Fi move a new load of weapons from the car to the loft. He was also grateful that Fi was downstairs because he was sure she would be able to hear his mother's dulcet tones through the phone and across the room. And he didn't need to have to explain any more phantom children to her. Their relationship was tenuous enough right now.

"There was a girl, a teenage girl. She came to the door and said she was looking for you. She said you were her father. She had pictures Michael! Pictures of you and her when she was little."

This was bad. This was very bad. If Sasha had found him, that meant something had happened to Damian. Michael's head was spinning as he thought through the implications of what this could mean. "Ma, calm down. What was her name? What does she look like? I am sure this is all just a big misunderstanding."

"I am not going to calm down. Michael, you promised me, promised. Who is she? Why does she have those pictures?" Maddie had worked herself up to the point where she was on the verge of crying. She didn't know what to think and her hands were starting to shake.

"Mom, is she still there?"

"No. I told her that was impossible, you wouldn't lie to me," her voice broke at that point, "and I sent her away."

"Okay, just hang tight and try to relax. I will be over as soon as I can."

"Hurry, Michael." Her voice lowering now that she knew he was coming and would hopefully make sense of this mess.

Sasha let out her breath. It seemed to have worked. Michael was coming, they would find out what had happened to Damian, and things would go back to the way they had been. She hoped they could spend some time in a country with indoor plumbing next. She watched the street, looking for some sign of Michael's arrival.

Michael had gone down to the car to tell Fiona he had to go to his Mom's. He needed to calm his Mom down enough and explain things to her before she got to Fi. One crazed woman he could handle, but not both of them. He kissed her lightly and drove out the gate. It had to be Sasha, he thought, as he drove through Miami. It was the only explanation, especially if she had pictures. As he neared his mother's house, he spied Sasha sitting under a tree in the exact place he would sit if he were doing surveillance on the house and didn't have a car. He turned the corner and parked in the alley behind the house, hoping he'd managed to avoid Sasha's notice. He'd go out and get her once he got things settled with his mom.

He opened the kitchen door and saw his mother sitting at the table, a cigarette in one hand and a glass of scotch in the other. She turned when she heard him come in. "Mom, let me explain." he began. He had to get the first word in or he would never get her calmed down. "The girl who came to see you is Sasha. Sasha is not my daughter. I am more like her godfather. Her uncle was one of my favorite people I worked with once I got out of the Army. When Sasha was tiny, her parents were killed in a car accident and her uncle got custody of her. He didn't tell anyone he had brought a baby back to Chechnya with him. We ran ops with Sasha in tow without so much as our handlers finding out until she was almost three. At that point, someone in Washington decided it was too hard to explain two men and a toddler, so they sent me to work on my own and Damian and Sasha kept working together as a sort of father-daughter team. Damian made me promise that if anything ever happened to him, I'd take Sasha. I was the back up plan. So, if Sasha is here. That means something has happened to Damian and I need to figure out what."

"She is not your daughter?" Maddie asked, unsure whether to believe Michael's far fetched story. "You worked as a spy with a two year old?" A thought crossed her mind that forced a humorless laugh from her lips, "Did you ever change her diaper?"

Michael rolled his eyes exasperated. Diapers. His mom was asking him about diaper changing. "Yes, I changed her diaper once or twice." "Are we good? Do you believe me? Can I go get her?"

Maddie sighed, "Fine, but I wish you would warn me about these things. It is too much stress."

Michael walked to the front door, shaking his head. People could try to kill him, blow up his mother's solarium, but thinking she had a granddaughter was too much stress.

"Where are you going?" Maddie interrupted his thinking. "I made her leave. Your car is in back."

"She is sitting across the street watching the house. She probably heard every word you screamed at me on the phone, assuming she didn't bug the place, which she probably did."

Sasha had seen a car with what could have been Michael in it pull around to the alley, but she didn't have binoculars with her to be sure. She decided to wait and see. If it was Michael, he parked in back because he didn't want her to know he was there and he would come and get her when he was ready.

The front door opened and Michael walked out onto the porch. It was all she could do not to run across the street. He motioned her to come over. She picked her up bag and stood up. It seemed to take forever to walk across the street and up the walk. She was trying so hard not to run or start to cry. She was so tired.

She had been traveling for almost a week catching only an hour of sleep here or there. They had been working in a small village about 100 miles northeast of Kabul, near the border with Pakistan when Damian disappeared. It had taken her three days to walk to Bagram Air Base, where she went from being Aasif, the young Afghan boy, to Airman Amber Michaels, a 19-year-old from Cleveland. She knew Michael had been sent to Miami when he was burned, so that is where she would start looking. From Bagram, she was able to get on transport flights that would finally land her in the US.

He met her at the bottom of the porch stairs. She couldn't help herself at that point. Sasha threw her arms around Michael's waist and started to sob.

He hated it when women cried. And this wasn't Sasha the little kid he taught to clean an automatic rifle; this was Sasha a young woman. She had grown up since he had last seen her 5 years ago. Fortunately, the minute his mother heard crying, she swooped in to comfort her and he was able to extract himself from the teary mess.

Maddie couldn't help herself when she saw the girl cling to Michael like she was drowning. Sasha wasn't her granddaughter, but she was in trouble and didn't have anyone else. And she saw the panic stricken look on Michael's face when Sasha started sobbing into his shirt. Gently, she put her arms around Sasha's shoulders and led her inside the house. "Come on honey, let's get you inside. I'll make you a nice cup of tea and you can tell Michael everything." She sat Sasha down on the couch, brought her a box of tissues. She started the teakettle and then sat down next to Sasha. She put her arm around her and said, "I'm so sorry I didn't let you in before, honey. You surprised me, that's all."

"No, Mrs. Westen. I am so sorry. I shouldn't have lied to you like that." Sasha hiccupped out between sobs. "I just needed to find him because…" She started crying again in earnest and couldn't finish the sentence.

"Sasha, what happened? Where is Damian?" Michael was trying to be gentle, but he could tell from the look his mother shot him, he was failing.

Michael's questions helped her pull it together. Sasha couldn't believe she'd lost control like that. She'd been interrogated before, even tortured once, and hadn't broken down sobbing like a baby. She'd always been strong; Damian had trained her to handle anything. She took a deep breath and looked up. "We were working in the village of Ashtiway. We'd come in posing as father and son. It wasn't safe for me to be a girl and it would have really limited where I could go and what I could do. There is still a lot of Taliban influence there. We said we were cobblers, traveling through the area. It is close to the Pakistan border and there had been a number of issues with foreign al Qaeda, Chechens, Chinese, Arabs, coming across the border and causing mischief. We were trying to find out where they were based so we could call in an air strike. We'd got some good intel and were going to move out in the next couple of days. I went out to try and reach our handler to pass along what we knew before we moved out. Because the mountains are so high there, it was hard to get a satellite signal unless they were right overhead. So every few days, I would climb up to a point where I could get a consistent signal. It would take all day. The point was 15 miles from the village. I would leave at dawn with the couple of goats we had as cover and reach the spot about noon. I'd spend a few hours scouting to make sure things were clear, before I'd start setting up the equipment. We had a cache of equipment and supplies near the call location where we kept everything. I made contact, passed along our info and started putting everything away. We'd pick it up when we went to our next location. I hadn't even finished repacking the cache when I got a text message. Damian and I had rewired a couple of cell phones to use satellite signals to send text messages, but we only used them in emergencies. It was just one word. Run."

"How do you know it was Damian that sent the message?"

Michael's question made her smile, "Because it was in Pig Latin. It was like a joke between us. So it didn't say 'run', it said 'unray'. And I did. I knew Bagram Air Base was the closest place for me to try to find out what was going on. I spent 36 hours there. I hacked into every network on that base trying to see if there was any chatter about Damian or Ashtiway. I finally found a black network with a file. It had surveillance pictures of us taken from a drone. There was also a video of an assassination. They killed Damian. My check in with our handler wasn't scheduled. I went a day early since we were going to leave. I was supposed to be there too."

Sasha paused. This was the first time she had told the story out loud and suddenly things seem so much more real. "Michael, I think we got burned."

"Are you sure he is dead?" This was an important question in Michael's mind. Because if Damian was dead, he was going to be a father to a teenage girl. And if he was honest with himself, there wasn't much in this world that scared him more than that. If Damian wasn't dead, just captured, injured, lost, whatever. He was off the hook. He could help Sasha find Damian and then go back to not being a parent.

She shrugged. "I don't know. If the video is genuine, I don't know how he could have survived. There was a sniper across the street from the room we were using packing an SV-99 with a silencer. The round went straight through Damian's head. A three-man extraction team came in as soon as the shot went off. On the video they confirmed the kill. They put Damian in a body bag and search the room for me. They left the building with Damian's body and that is where the video ended."

The kettle started to whistle, and Maddie got up to make the tea. As she got out mugs and poured the hot water over the tea bags, she couldn't believe what this girl had been through. Being around Michael, Fiona, and Sam she realized people could go through a lot, but they were adults, Sasha was just a girl. She looked like she had just come home from her first day of high school, not running halfway around the world from assassins.

Then she looked at Michael and thought about the things he went through when he was Sasha's age. Getting slapped around by his father, always trying to protect Nate, getting into trouble at school. Sasha would be okay she realized, but they had to help her. It looked like she might get to be a grandmother after all.

"If they are looking for you, you are still in danger. Tell me exactly how you got here." Michael knew Sasha was well trained and knew how to misdirect and lose a tail, but after seeing her break down, he was worried she had slipped up somewhere and made a mistake.

"Once I got the text, I crushed the phone and threw it in a stream. I traveled mostly at night to get to Bagram. "

"What was your cover?" Every detail was so crucial. Michael guessed they had followed her through Afghanistan, but it was possible, she may have lost them in the base. That still left open the question, why they hadn't killed her in Afghanistan if they knew where she was?

"Once I got to Bagram, my cover was Airman Amber Michaels with the 466th Air Expeditionary Group. Her papers were in the soles of my boots at all times and I had a cache outside of Bagram with her uniform and other supplies. Not even Damian knew that cover. There was no one who would have known to expect Amber. I was Airman Michaels for about six hours. At which point I was able to change my cover to Alexandra Newman, a Red Cross worker from the UK. I changed covers 3 more times while I was there. And my hair color once. I left as 2nd Lt. Megan Worth, U.S. Army Reserve. From there, I flew to Qatar. I left base and I got a haircut and make up and civilian clothing. I borrowed a car and drove to Doha. I flew commercial from Doha to Incirlik, Turkey using a British passport with the name Emily Gibbons. I got on to Incirlik Air Base using the Royal Air Force cover, Aircraftwoman Elizabeth Brighton. From there I flew to Mindenhall in the UK. I left Mindenhall and took the train to Edinburgh, where I changed my hair color again. My cover was now Katarina Vitsen from Riga, Latvia and don't worry, I only spoke Russian. From Edinburgh, I became Else Broschnick from Toronto and flew to Montreal. I borrowed a car outside of Montreal and drove to Niagara Falls, Ontario. I walked across the border to New York. I took the train from Niagara Falls to New York City. My driver's license said Katie Mitchell from Queens. I flew from LaGuardia to Atlanta as Marcy Teller. Stacy Robins borrowed a car in Atlanta and drove it to Knocksville, where Vicki Smith flew to Orlando. In Orlando, Jamie Rogers got on a Greyhound bus bound for Miami. Amy Russell took a bus and metrorail to the University of Miami. Sasha Carden walked from there, although I don't currently have any id for her. I avoided CCTV and wore a hat and some sort of glasses whenever possible. I wore fat clothes and wigs. I did everything I could to try to stay under the radar."

"You did everything I would have done. You did good. Just relax and we will figure out what to do."

"Oh honey," Maddie was exhausted just listening to her recitation. "How long have you been traveling? You must be exhausted."

After thinking for a minute, Sasha replied, "I got the text 6 days ago. I'm a little tired."

"Let me go make up the spare room and you can get some rest." Maddie was not going to let Michael question this poor girl any more until she had rested and eaten something. She was far too skinny.

"Oh, Mrs. Westen, I couldn't possibly impose on you like that. Besides, Michael is right. I am sure it is only a matter of time before the people who got Damian find me, and I couldn't put you in any sort of danger. I'll find some place to stay."

"Until we get things figured out, you can stay in the loft. It will be a little cozy with three of us, but it will have to do. Besides, it will provide more protection. I'll call Fiona and have her come over. She can take you back to the loft and you guys can do whatever girls like you two do. Paint your nails, clean your guns, you know girlie stuff. Sam and I will start poking around and see what we can find."

As Michael got on the phone, Maddie brought out some cookies and set them on a plate in front of Sasha. Sasha ate one and realized she felt safe, exhausted, but safe. She didn't know if there was anything she could do for Damian if he was still alive. If he were, he would find her as long as she stayed with Michael. Just hearing Michael's voice made her feel like she was little again without a worry in the world and soon she was fast asleep.

Hours later, Sasha woke up disoriented, knowing she had heard the slide on a semi-automatic pistol being pulled back. Quietly, she pulled a six-inch hunting knife out of her boot and rolled off the couch she had been laying on. She was in some sort of industrial loft. Obviously, someone lived here. There was a kitchen set up in one corner and a bed was in the middle of the room. She was up on some sort of balcony, second floor that seemed to act as an office. Staying low, she inspected the loft more carefully to determine where the gun was. A woman's voice from directly beneath her, startled her.

"Oh good. You're up. Are you hungry?" Fiona hadn't been totally pleased to be left behind to babysit Sasha, but she was curious to find out more about this girl and her relationship to Michael. The girl hadn't moved when Michael had carried her from his mother's house to his car. Fiona had followed him back to the loft. By the time she arrived, Michael had already carried Sasha upstairs to the office and laid her down on the couch. He's also brought in the messenger bag she had been carrying. Michael had explained only that Sasha was the niece of a buddy he used to work with. Michael was their back up plan if anything was to happen and apparently, something had happened. Then he left with Sam to start poking around.

Suddenly, everything flooded back. Sasha must be at the loft Michael had mentioned. Which would make the woman below her, Fiona. Still holding on to her knife, she analyzed Fiona. She was beautiful. Simply dressed in a tank top, jeans, and 4 inch wedge sandals. She was sitting at a workbench and appeared to have just finished cleaning a Walther PPK.

"I'm Sasha." She didn't know what else to say, so she figured introductions were the best place to start.

"I'm Fiona, and you can put the knife away. The gun isn't loaded yet and I don't have any reason to shot you."

Sasha smiled as she returned her knife to its sheath. She had the feeling she and Fiona would get along just fine. "It's a fine piece of German engineering. I prefer a SIG Sauer P226 personally, but when push comes to shoot, I'm not picky. And yes, I'm starving."

"I thought you might favor those," Fiona laughed, "since there are two of them in your bag. As well as three knives, two computers, 7 flash drives, 9 memory cards, 4 cell phones, electrical tape, a multi-purpose tool, deodorant, a pair of clean underwear, 100 rounds of ammo, a baseball cap, 3 passports, $1000, 750, £849 in cash, 5 driver's licenses, 19 credit cards, 4 pairs of sunglasses, a pack of gum, some C4, 3 detonators, a digital camera, a tube of mascara, a tube of chap stick, a pen, a notebook, and an earring back. Did I miss anything?"

Sasha had expected they would search her bag; she was impressed by how through a search it had been. Most of the items were hidden in hollowed out textbooks. Not that it was that ingenious of a hiding place, but it meant they did more than just open her bag. "I think that is everything, not counting the 4 hollowed out textbooks. I was wondering where that earring back had disappeared to."

Fiona smiled. "There is yogurt in the fridge and spoons in the left hand drawer. Eat, then you can get cleaned up and we can go shopping!"

Sasha was as curious about Fiona as Fiona was curious about her. She had heard of an IRA operative named Fiona Glenanne, a genius with weapons and explosives. She had also heard that Michael had his cover blown in an operation in Ireland that involved the IRA. When Michael had been extracted from the job he was pretty shook up. Not about his cover being blown, but about the girl he'd fallen in love with there. Could this be the same Fiona? Whoever she was it appeared they were living together, had they some how managed to get back together? The whole thing seemed highly improbable but quite romantic.

Sasha chose a strawberry yogurt from the fridge and ate it quickly. As she washed the spoon and threw the container away, Fiona came up to her with a sundress and a towel. "The bathroom is in here." She said opening a door. "Feel free to use anything." She opened up a cupboard and pulled out a new razor and toothbrush and handed them to Sasha. "I'm sure living in Afghanistan you didn't see these as often as you'd have liked."

Sasha laughed. "I was pretending to be a boy. There was no shaving, no showering, and no deodorant. I am so happy to be back in a country with hygiene. And where I get to be a girl. Thank you so much for this. I really like your place."

Fiona responded with half a smile, " you're welcome, but it's not really my place. The fabulous decorating is all Michael Westen. I'm not quite sure why I stick around, but I do. He convinced me to move in a few months ago."

"You two seem like a good match. I'm glad he found you." Sasha closed the door, turned on the shower and proceeded to try to remove six months of Afghanistan from her body.


	2. Chapter 2

Hours later Fiona and Sasha made it back to the loft. They were each carrying close to a dozen bags. They had hit the shops at Lincoln Road and eaten dinner at Smith and Wollensky. Sasha had the thick sliced applewood smoked bacon appetizer; she had missed pork. Sam and Michael were in the kitchen when the girls returned.

"I thought I said to lay low." Michael told Fiona.

"You expect her to wear the same clothes she has worn since who knows when? No. Not on my watch. We were careful. Her hair is a different color and quite a bit longer and while someone might pick her out if they are using facial recognition, no one on the street will be able to tell Sasha is the same girl who fell asleep at your mother's."

Michael looked around Fiona and realized she was probably right. He'd recognized Sasha right away at his mother's, because she still looked like the ten-year-old who'd literally run into him at the Chorsu Bazaar in Tashkent, Uzbekistan. She had less dirt on her face then she did back then, and no juice from a kabob running down her chin, but there was something about her that would always be that tiny girl he'd been introduced to 14 years ago.

Now, well now she looked like Fiona's younger sister. Her hair was a medium brown with caramel streaks in it and it went to the middle of her back in soft curls. She had dark eyeliner circling both eyes, although you couldn't see it because of her large sunglasses. The sundress she was wearing was classic Fiona; in fact he thought he remembered her wearing that same dress a couple of weeks ago.

"My oh my! Sasha, you have grown up a little." Sam said, setting down his beer. He couldn't believe the young woman in front of him was the same little pipsqueak he'd met in Moscow who knows how long ago. She had conned him out of piroshkies four different times during that mission. She may have been little, but Damian had trained her well and she was a good spy. Not to mention an incredible con artist.

Sasha just smiled. She was suddenly shy, which was a very new feeling. She'd enjoyed her afternoon with Fiona, they had a lot in common, but now she felt like the people she'd known her whole life were looking at her differently somehow. Regardless of what cover she'd had, somewhere inside she'd always hung on to Sasha. Now, she worried that somehow the new hair and makeup had changed something.

Fiona flopped her bags on the bed and kicked off her shoes. "Bring your stuff over here, let's show them what we got." Sasha came over and began digging through bags. "Come on Michael. I know this is your favorite part, assuming you don't get to go to the stores with me." Fiona said smiling coyly.

"If that is what you want to do." Michael said finishing his yogurt. "Sam and I thought we'd tell you what we found out, but now that you've mentioned it, I want to see every shoe and accessory."

Sasha froze and her eyes darting between Fiona and Michael with a panicked expression. A wave of guilt and nausea washed over her. She felt horrible. She hadn't forgotten about Damian, not exactly. But she never got to just be a girl or really even hang out with one. She had felt so comfortable with Fiona that she had forgotten why she wasn't in Afghanistan. It was the best afternoon she could remember in a very long time. They had spent dinner playing a "what would you do" game. They would throw out more and more impossible situations and then develop a tactical strategy to get out of the situation. While they tried on shoes they discussed the various pros and cons of different sniper rifles. They discovered their skill areas complemented each other very nicely. Fiona's knowledge of weapons and explosives far exceeded Sasha's, but Sasha's skills when it came to forging documents and hacking were second to none.

Michael broke into a smile; "I wouldn't do that to you Солнышко." Sasha smiled. She hadn't been called Солнышкo since Uzbekistan. It had been his pet name for her. It meant "little sun," and it made it easy because he didn't have to remember what her cover name was.

"So we started asking around, trying to see what was out there about your activities, seeing if there were any red flags." Sam stopped and looked at Michael. "There wasn't anything unusual at all. No one has heard anything abnormal. From what we can tell, neither of you are missing. Granted, officially, you don't exist, but you know what I mean."

The unsettled feeling Michael had since they started investigating grew, when instead of confusion or anger, Sasha looked defeated. "What's been going on? You suspect something, what is it?"

"After you were burned, Damian started acting different. Whenever I'd ask him about it, he'd say it was because I was growing up and he didn't know what he'd do with a teenager. He became very concerned about my English. If I mispronounced something or didn't use an idiom correctly, he would freak out. We started spending a month state side every summer. We'd spend sometime at the Farm doing training stuff, but we'd also do random stuff like one year we went to Disney World and another year he had me get a spa makeover. It was fun, but it didn't really fit into the world I knew. I thought maybe he wanted me to come back to the U.S. and go to college and the get on with the company on my own, and he was trying to prepare me to fit in but didn't want me to know."

"You would come and train at Camp Peary for a month every year?" Michael asked.

"Some years we'd go to the Point in North Carolina. That's where I did most of my explosives training." Sasha replied looking at Fiona.

"I would do language testing, weapons work, some interrogation and hand to hand combat stuff. The last couple of years I did a lot of hacking stuff. We had done some work when I was 8 in Caracas, Venezuela. It was an online sex trafficking thing, some really nasty stuff, but our point of contact in Venezuela was Rafael Núñez, one of the best hackers in the world. This was before the FBI arrested him for hacking the Defense Information Systems Agency's computer system. Besides hacking he was very concerned about the levels of pedophilia he saw online and was working to combat the exploitation of children on the Internet. Anyway, he was, and still is, one of the best, and so while Damian was off busting the bad guys, I got Rafael to teach me how to hack and I was hooked. The last couple of years when we'd go to the Farm, they would run me through hacking scenarios. I got into everything they gave me, and a couple of things they didn't give me. When we left this year, Damian was really skittish. It was like he was trying to protect me from ghosts. That is when he had me make up the cover Amber Michaels, someone even he didn't know, with a supply cache he didn't know about. Like he knew this might happen"

Sam and Michael exchanged knowing looks. "Well kiddo," Sam began, "We don't know anything for sure, but there is a lot of stuff that doesn't add up."

Michael continued, "Like how did you make it out of Afghanistan? Don't get me wrong, I know you are good, but if it really was an inside job like the file you found suggests, they would have hit you. You had made contact before you got the message from Damian, the team would have known you weren't there, so they wouldn't have looked for you. They would have had the coordinates of your cache from your call to your handler and they could have guessed where you would head. With infrared goggles, you would have been so easy to find. You wouldn't have seen them coming. If they were just getting rid of Damian so they could use you for a job, they would have been able to pick you up. You were set up."

The same thoughts had been gnawing at the edge of Sasha's mind since the UK. Somewhere on the train between Cambridge and Edinburgh the shock had started to wear off and she realized how many things did not add up. At that point though, she was so tired, she wasn't sure if she trusted her mind to be drawing correct conclusions.

"I know." Sasha said with an exhausted air. "I kept waiting for the bullet to hit me or for a hood to get pulled over my head. Every night I'd wake up, shocked I was still alive." She sighed and rubbed her head. "And the file. That file was too easy for me to find and get into. It was hidden, but it wasn't protected. A file like that would have been booby-trapped or had alarms on it. And it was on a local network. Something like that would have gone back to DC, it wouldn't have been just local." With a humorless laugh she added, "He was trying to get rid of me, and I fell for it hook, line, and sinker."

"Don't be ridiculous kid, of course he was trying to get rid of you, but it was to protect you, to keep you safe." Sam cut in.

"Sasha, you know Damian loves you. You couldn't have asked for a more devoted father. Someone wants you for something, to exploit you and your skills and he wasn't going to let that happen. I won't either." Michael said with finality.

"So, the good news is you aren't being hunted by assassins, and Damian is likely still alive. Bad news is you are stuck here with Mikey until Damian comes along or you turn 18 and we put you out on the street."

Sasha had to laugh. She could always count on Sam to make her laugh.

"Don't worry, we'll figure this out. We will find a way to get word to Damian you made it and see what he wants to do."

Turning to Fiona, Michael said, "Okay, show us what you bought. I know you have been dying to show us."


	3. Chapter 3

It was a long and frankly rather awkward night. Fiona had made Sasha show off all of her new clothes, and the guys pretended to love them. She appreciated the effort they made even though she knew they were completely bored.

Sam had left as soon as the fashion show was over. He had a new lady friend he needed to woo to make sure he had somewhere to sleep. Otherwise, he'd be back at Maddie's. Not that she minded particularly, but he hated showing up without warning. And who knew, maybe one of these days Maddie would have a gentleman friend that wouldn't appreciate Sam hanging around.

Michael cleaned up Sam's beer bottles and the yogurt lid he'd left on the counter. Fiona and Sasha were trying to figure out where to put all of their new clothes. He was glad Fiona had moved in, but he was going to have to build a new closet for all of her clothes. Figuring out what to do with Sasha was going to be a little more complicated then a simple home improvement project. He had to find out exactly what was going on. Just because it made the most sense that Damian had sent Sasha away to protect her, Michael couldn't yet be certain that was what happened.

"Michael, do you have any extra sheets?" Fiona called from upstairs. He looked at her blankly.

Then it clicked. Right, for the couch. That would be no. He was a guy who lived in an industrial loft over a nightclub. Did he really seem like someone who would have extra linens? "Yeah, maybe we should take you over to my mom's." Michael said looking at Sasha. "I don't think anyone is looking for you in Miami. It should be fine until we can figure out something more permanent. That way you can have a real bed, instead of having to sleep on a couch."

Fiona and Sasha exchanged looks. "Michael," Fiona began, "It is 1 am. Your mother will not be happy if you call her right now. She will really not be happy if you just drop Sasha off. She needs to stay here tonight. Besides, I told your mom we were all going to get together at her house for breakfast. She's very excited about it."

Michael shot Fiona a wilting glance as Sasha said, "Its okay. The couch is perfect just as it is. I don't want to be any trouble. I was sleeping in a flea infested wool blanket on the floor a week ago, believe me, the couch is great."

Later, as she lay on the couch watching the neon lights from the club come through the window, Sasha could hear Michael and Fiona whispering. Occasionally, Damian would go out with a woman, but work and Sasha always came first. He never brought these women home and Sasha had never met one of his dates. He wasn't ever in one place long enough for anything to become serious. So she felt incredibly awkward as she watched Michael and Fiona get ready for bed. She had tried not to watch and she pretended she was asleep, but Fiona wasn't exactly quiet and she was more than just a little curious. They had been in the bathroom together and she could hear them arguing. She got the feeling it was about what Fiona was going to wear to bed.

Michael came out first in pajama pants and a tank top. He was getting some water from the sink when Fiona came up behind him and put her arms around him. He set his glass down and turned around still in her embrace. He gathered her arms behind her with his hands. He caught her eye, shook his head, and shot a look up to the couch where Sasha was watching through half closed eyes. He kissed Fiona softly and whispered, "Be good," in her ear, before dropping her hands and walking over to the bed. Fiona climbed in after him and snuggled close. With her head on his chest, she asked him what he thought was really going on with Sasha. He shook his head, "I don't know. Too much doesn't add up. Something is wrong, but I have no idea what." Absentmindedly, he stroked her back with his fingers. She was wearing one of his t-shirts and he liked the feel of the familiar fabric on her back. She rose up on one arm, her other hand still resting on his chest and looked at him and whispered, "We'll figure it out. We always do." She kissed him softly and said, "Good night." With that she rolled over and was soon fast asleep.

Sleep did not come easily to anyone else in the loft however. Michael's worries about raising Sasha and whatever mess she and Damian were in, raced around his head.

Sasha kept replaying everything that had happened in the weeks since they had returned to Afghanistan from the Farm, looking for any clue she might have missed that would shed some light on her current predicament.

The first silver light of dawn was beginning to leak through the loft windows when Sasha finally settled into a restless sleep. Michael had finally dozed off about an hour earlier. They were both fast asleep when Michael's cell phone rang at eight the next morning.

Sasha was on her feet, gun pulled out from under the couch cushion, head on a swivel searching for the source of the noise by the second ring. She heard Michael answer the phone with a groggy, "Hi Mom." He moved to sit on the edge of the bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "No, we didn't forget. We are coming over."

Her heart began to slow and she stuck the gun in the waist of her pajama pants. She padded downstairs and got a drink. She glanced at the now empty bed. Michael had walked onto the balcony and Fiona must be in the bathroom.

Michael came back in and spotted the grip of her gun sticking out of her pants. "I hope you didn't sleep like that. That would be a good way to lose something important."

"No, the phone startled me, and habit says to point a gun at anything that startles you. You tend to live longer that way."

Michael smiled knowingly. "My mom says we need to be over there in an hour, or she will be coming over here, and believe me we don't want that. You can have the bathroom after Fiona is done."

"Thanks." Sasha said as she went back upstairs to brush her hair and find something to wear.

45 minutes later they pulled up in front of Maddie's house. As they walked in the front door, through the every present haze of cigarette smoke, there was the smell of fresh coffee and cinnamon rolls. Michael and Fiona exchanged concerned looks. They had both eaten Madeline's efforts at baking in the past, and weren't sure they were up for the challenge this morning.

"Ma" Michael asked hesitantly, "You didn't go to any trouble did you?" Which was code for 'please tell me you didn't decide to cook'. Maddie shot him a look as she came out of the kitchen. "Relax, I went to the Cinnabon in the mall."

"My my, Fiona did quite the number on you Sasha." Maddie said as she had her turn around and then gave Sasha a big hug. She added, "But I like it. It is a good mix of Michael's practicality and Fiona's passion." "Come, sit down, there is juice and coffee."

Maddie sat down at the table next to Sasha who had just pulled a giant, gooey cinnamon roll from the box. She poured herself a cup of coffee and asked, "Can I see those pictures you showed me yesterday again?"

"Absolutely," Sasha said licking the frosting off her fingers and standing up. She grabbed a laptop and a flash drive out of the bag she had left in the living room and brought them back to the table.

Michael shifted uncomfortably in his seat and got up to go to the kitchen under the pretense of looking for milk for his coffee. It wasn't that he didn't want to see the pictures, he did. He just wasn't sure he was ready for his Mom to see this part of his life; the places he lived and worked, the people he cared about, the people he killed. He didn't think Sasha had pictures of anyone he'd had to kill, but it was all tied together and he wasn't sure he was ready for that to be displayed to the women he cared most about.

When Michael got up, Fiona came over to the other side of Sasha, to see the pictures too. "What pictures are these?" she asked.

"They are from when I was little. Some of them have Michael in them, some have Damian, and I think there I may even have one with Sam in it. Most of them were taken in various parts of Eastern Europe. I showed a few to Mrs. Westen yesterday."

Sasha booted up the computer and inserted the flash drive. The pictures, like every other file, email, or document in her possession had been carefully encrypted. In addition to the encryption, she had saved the pictures in a format that was only readable using software she had written. The pictures stayed on the flash drive, the software on the computer, so it was harder to get them together. A minute or so later, she opened the folder with the pictures she was looking for. Carrying around pictures like these was very dangerous, both for her and the people in them, but they were like her security blanket, the thing that said everything was going to be okay. She always made sure they were absolutely secure. She began flipping through pictures looking for ones with Michael in them, since she assumed, that was what Maddie and Fiona wanted to see.

"Don't skip these." Maddie said, "I want to see all of them."

"Oh? Okay." Sasha replied somewhat confused, going back to the beginning of the pictures. "I don't know how many pictures I have with Michael in them."

"Sweetie" Maddie began, "Don't get me wrong, I am excited to see pictures of Michael, but I also want to see pictures of you. The minute you came through that door, you became part of this family. It is a completely dysfunctional family; you have Michael and Nate, you already know how messed up Michael is. Nate, Michael's younger brother is just as messed up, just in different ways. A few years ago we added Fiona and Sam, and yesterday we added you. I would do anything for any of them. Right now, I want to know about you."

Sasha thought she might begin to cry she was so touched. She always knew Damian loved her, but she was expected to carry her own weight, she had to or things could go wrong. To hear Madeline Westen talk to her like a mother or a grandmother might, was something she had never experienced before.

"Thank you so much Mrs. Westen." Sasha whispered as she leaned over to hug Maddie.

"Okay, Enough with this 'Mrs. Westen' stuff. From now on, I am Maddie, or if you are brave enough," she said with a laugh, "you can call me 'grandma.'" From the kitchen, Michael almost choked on his coffee.

Sasha went back to her computer and began with the first picture. She was just a baby, fast asleep on her first international flight. The one that would take her from suburban Ohio, to what was then Grozny, Chechnya.

"These are pictures of me, when I first moved to Russia." Sasha said as she began flipping through the pictures. She came across a picture of Michael holding her under her arms as far away from his body as possible. She was screaming her head off, and Michael looked like he would like to do the same. She couldn't help but smile. "This is the first time I met Michael."

Maddie said ruefully, "I always knew Michael had a way with children."

Cautiously, Michael poked his head out from behind the fridge so he could see the picture. He remembered that day. His hard as nails partner had gone stateside for a funeral, and had returned a weak and doting parent. Michael was convinced Damian had lost his mind. Who brought a baby to a war zone? Did Damian really think he could raise a little girl in Chechnya, with the job that he had? He had wanted to throw the squishy, noisy little girl out the window when Damian had shoved her into his arms and began taking pictures. But he didn't follow his gut and that little girl wormed her way into his heart. He'd do anything for her.

Sasha moved on to the next pictures. "This is Damian." She said, pointing to an athletically built man with dark hair and eyes. He had a scar along his cheek and in the picture one arm was bandaged. Her heart ached as she looked at the picture. It had been a week since she had seen him and she didn't know if he was dead or alive. He had been all the family she had ever know, but now it seemed she had family to step in to help fill the gap he had left.

Over the next few hours, they went through all of the pictures on the drive. Eventually, Michael moved back to the table from the kitchen and even helped Sasha explain the pictures.

As they finished, Michael got a phone call and went out to the garage to take it. Maddie took Sasha and Fiona into Michael's old room and showed them the old photo albums she had. Michael's first black eye, his first baseball team, his prom pictures. They were well into the first album when Michael returned to the house. He was concerned when he didn't see them as he came in. His concern turned to horror when he heard their voices coming from his old room.

"Ma, no one wants to see those old pictures." Michael said as he walked into the room. "They are just being polite, you are boring them."

All three women looked up from the photos and shot him a look that would have stopped weaker men dead in their tracks, but Michael pressed on. "Just give me the album." He made a move to pull it out of his mother's hands but was cut off as Fiona stood up and said, "Michael, don't be ridiculous." She removed his hands from the album. "I will handcuff you to a chair in the living room if you cannot behave yourself. You may stay, but only if you behave. I really do not want to hurt you."

"Are you threatening me Fiona Glenanne?" He said incredulously.

"Threat, promise, call it what you like, Michael, but I'd like to see these pictures and I believe Sasha does too."

Sasha quickly nodded her head in agreement. Michael glared at her and mouthed, "traitor" as he turned out of the room.

Michael went to the garage to think. He had an idea of how to contact Damian, but he would need Sasha's expertise. That made things difficult however, because he wanted to talk to Damian without her being around. He needed him to talk candidly and he wouldn't if he knew Sasha was around. He hoped he'd be able to get her to help him and then let him make contact.

Unfortunately, that wasn't his biggest concern. His biggest concern was what to do with the 15 year-old that was now living with him. He liked having her close, where he could keep an eye on her, but there was no way the three of them could live in the loft. He could ask if she could stay with his mother, but then he would feel guilty, like he wasn't watching out for her like he should. Besides, he could guarantee his mother would keep pulling out old photo albums or other mementos to show Sasha until he set fire to the house. And as long as those types of things were floating around, Fiona would be there. So maybe they should all just move in with Mom. Michael shuddered at the thought.

He would just have to keep thinking.

A half hour later, Fiona came out to the garage looking for him. "Do you want me to ask your Mom about linens for Sasha?" she asked.

"I don't know." Michael replied. "Do you think it would be better for her to just stay here? There is plenty of room, it would give my Mom something to do…"

"It would probably drive Sasha batty in a day." Fiona interrupted. "She loves your mother, Michael, I can see it in her eyes, but she also sent me out here to see if you could come up with an excuse to leave. She needs some space."

"We need some space too." Michael retorted. "The loft was not designed for a couple and a kid."

"Well, how long term do you think this will be?" Fiona asked a little surprised. She assumed they would have things figured out in a few weeks. While it might not be comfortable they could make things work for a few weeks.

"I don't know, but I want to err on the side of two or three years. I can't be sure what has happened with Damian. I might be wrong, and she might be with us indefinitely."

Fiona thought for a few minutes as they were both silent, thinking about the implications of having Sasha around long term. Suddenly, she brightened.

"Sugar" she said with a look of certainty.

"Sugar?" Michael echoed confusion tainting his voice.

"Of course Michael," Fiona answered. "It would be perfect. We just need to call Oleg and let him know you have a renter for Sugar's old apartment. It keeps Sasha close, but gives her and us some privacy and gives us all a little space from your Mom."

"You are brilliant Fiona. Will you take care of calling Oleg and getting things set up? I'll go talk to Sasha."

Michael went in the house and found Sasha and his Mom cleaning up dishes from breakfast. "Sasha, Fiona and I know the loft is not the most comfortable place and we had an idea we wanted to float by you."

Sasha looked up from the dish she was drying with a wary look on her face.

"There is an apartment across the courtyard from mine. It will need some work. There are some bullet holes to patch and there are some bloodstains we'd need to clean up, but it would be your place. You can come up and hang out anytime you'd like, and like any good pseudo-parents, Fiona and I would each have keys to your place and we'd expect to be welcome any time too. What do you think?"

Sasha had been worried that Michael would try and pawn her off on his mother. She knew she would have done a great job looking after her, probably much better than Michael would, but she wanted to be in on the action. She wanted to know what was going on. This would be perfect; this would be better than perfect. Her own place! "That sounds great!"

"Fiona is calling the landlord to make sure it is okay. As soon as she gets the go ahead, we will go over and see what we need to do so you can get moved in." Michael took the plate from her and put it in the cupboard.

They had just finished putting the dishes away when Fiona came in the kitchen. "Good news! The apartment is yours!" Fiona said. "Oleg said it comes with the same conditions as Michael's and the same rent."

"I guess I need to get a job," Sasha began, "so I can pay my rent. I mean I can always move imaginary money around in imaginary accounts to pay for things, but I should probably try not to attract too much attention."

"Don't worry about it Солнышкo, we'll take care of it. This is part of being in this messed up family. Besides, don't you have to go to school or something?" Michael asked.

Everyone stopped and looked at each other as they realized that maybe Sasha ought to be in school. She looked around the circle with a concerned look on her face. "I don't know. I've never been to school before."

"Well, it's not something we are going to worry about right now." Fiona decided. "We have a lot of work to do and we could use someone with skills like yours. Let's go check out your new place."

It was small, but perfect Sasha thought as they walked into the ground level apartment. It would need a little work, and some structural hardening to get it how she wanted it, but she could see herself living here.

"Well," Michael said, "I guess my first order of business is fixing the bullet holes in the front and the rather large hole in the back that I made. What will you need to get moved in Sasha?"

Fiona spoke before Sasha could. "Let's let Michael fix his mess, and we can go buy you a mattress, some linens, a few kitchen items and anything else you want."

"That sounds great." She looked at Fiona before she added, "I don't need anything fancy. This place is already a hundred times nicer than 90% of the places I've lived."

"I know" Fiona replied. "This is your place. We will get what you want."

Michael had just finished patching the holes in the drywall he'd made encouraging Sugar to find a new place to live, when he heard an unfamiliar car pull up.

He eased his H&K USP from the waistband of his pants, and carefully looked into the courtyard. A black, late 90's Toyota pickup was backing up to the apartment. The back was full of lumber and what appeared to be a mattress, as well as a number of bags and boxes. He relaxed a little as Fiona's blue Hyundai pulled in behind the truck. They must have needed a truck to carry the mattress.

Sasha jumped out of the cab of the truck as Michael replaced his gun. Fiona came up to Sasha and looked at Michael and said, "What do you think? I tried to talk her into something more sporty, but she knew exactly what she wanted."

"You bought a car? You didn't borrow this from some poor guy who deserves a new truck after keeping this one for 15 years? Sasha isn't even old enough to drive. The truck is probably older than she is."

"I am right here. I can hear you talking about me." Fiona smiled as Sasha's temper flared. "Yes. I bought a car with Fiona's help. I am paying her back with mission support hours. We have it all arranged. I even have insurance, with a good student discount."

"But you've never been to school." Michael countered

"Yes, and I'm not 16, nor do I have a legitimate Florida drivers license. But I do have a very, very good fake one that says I am 17. Not all facts are important." Sasha replied. If the fact that she hadn't ever really been to school was the argument he was going with, he wasn't going to win this one.

Michael rolled his eyes and shot a look at Fiona and said, "Fine, let me see your ID."

Sasha handed him what she hoped would be her last driver's license for a while. She had worked hard on it. It was a perfect forgery. She had even hacked into the DMV's database so if it was run for whatever reason, everything would match.

"Sasha Westen?" Michael said, his eyebrows rising.

"Okay, think about it. Sasha Carden could be public enemy number one for all we know. Besides, if I am living here, I need a legitimate reason to be with you. It would be kinda creepy for a forty something guy to have a totally unrelated teenager essentially living with him. So, if you will notice the address on my license, I am technically living with my grandmother, Madeline Westen, while my father Jeffrey is abroad. We have always lived abroad, but he is currently working in an area where he didn't feel it was safe for me to be so he sent me to live with my grandmother. You are my uncle, we've always been very close since we are both expats."

Frustrated, Michael examined the license. He'd have to compare it to his mother's to be certain, but it was a better forgery then any of his. Sasha's back-story was perfect, and she would need a car. She was used to being fairly independent, and a car would help.

"This is your work?" Michael asked tapping the license.

"Of course. Its perfect isn't it." Sasha knew it was good when she saw Michael pull out his and compare. Even from a few feet away, she could see flaws in the forgery Michael had.

He handed her back her license and said, "Your first job can be redoing mine. Let's get your truck unloaded."


	4. Chapter 4

Late that night, or early the next morning, Sasha sat down at her makeshift desk. It was just a piece of plywood on a couple of sawhorses, but it gave her plenty of room, flexibility, and deniability. A fancy computer desk would always look like a fancy computer desk. All this looked like was a workbench. She'd even decided to use an exercise ball instead of an office chair. She needed her apartment to look like a normal teenage girl's apartment as much as possible. Okay, a normal teenage girl whose uncle used her apartment as a workshop, but it could happen.

Fiona had helped her pick out a horrible bright green bedspread with matching pillows and curtains for her new bed. Since neither of them knew who would be cool to have hanging on her wall, they bypassed pop culture posters and found some World War II propaganda posters and an Ansel Adams print that fit the room better.

They'd found some bins for her clothes that she couldn't hang up and an electric kettle to make ramen noodles and tea with. Sugar had left a mini fridge, although even after scrubbing it with bleach, she wasn't sure she wanted to use it. She looked around the room satisfied. There were still a few things she wanted to do, put a safe in the floor, add a false wall to stash things, get a new fridge, but she felt good about all they been able to accomplish. She'd tapped into a neighborhood Internet line and had run wires back to her place and the loft. It was a much faster connection than Michael had. She also wired a couple of tiny security cameras to the inside and outside of the apartment so she could monitor things whether she was there or not.

She only had one more thing she needed to do before she went to bed. She took a burn phone from the large locking toolbox by her desk that doubled as office storage. From another drawer, she removed soldering equipment and began to take the phone apart. She needed to recreate the phone Damian had last contacted her on. Once she had made the changes to the phone's circuitry, she'd reprogram the SIM card to be just like her old phone. 20 minutes later, she was done.

Michael had said it was possible, that if Damian were still alive, he would still have his phone. It was worth a try. He wanted to try and send the message out in the morning. Exhausted after her long day, Sasha was soon asleep.

The next morning Sasha and Fiona left for Orlando. Damian had rented a storage unit outside Orlando in Stanford when they had gone to Disney World several years back. He'd paid for 5 years up front and then they had stashed weapons, ammo, anything they might need if they were in Florida. Sasha had stopped at the unit on her way to Miami to pick up some clean clothes and the weapons she had. Now, she wanted to do a thorough search of the unit. She knew what she had put in the unit, but she wasn't sure what Damian had stored. Fiona volunteered to come along to keep her company.

The girls left the loft after breakfast and headed north in Sasha's truck. As Michael heard the gate close behind the truck, he pulled out the cell phone Sasha had given him that morning. He turned it over in his hands as he glanced at his watch. 8:53 am in Miami would make it 5:53 pm in Kabul, although Damian could be anywhere if he was still alive.

He started typing out the text message. He hoped Damian would understand. "There is a little sunshine here trying not to get burned. Any suggestions? The Godfather."

"Little sunshine" was obviously Sasha since that was Michael's pet name for her. Damian should recognize that "here" was Miami, and "trying not to get burned" meant neither Sasha or Michael knew what was going on. That he was looking for suggestions was clear enough, as was Michael's status as Sasha's godfather.

The phone beeped indicating that the message had been sent. Now there was nothing else to do but wait for a reply. He put the phone in his pocket and went downstairs to Sasha's to throw away Sugar's old fridge. Madeline had gone out to buy a new one. She'd already called several times this morning to see if there was anything Sasha needed for her place and was delighted when Michael told her she could buy her a fridge. Michael would go over and pick it up. He told Maddie she couldn't visit until Sasha was back and said it was okay.

He smiled as he let himself in her apartment. Initially, he'd been a little confused as he helped Sasha and Fiona unload the truck yesterday. A large rolling tool chest, plywood, and an exercise ball had all seemed a little random until he watched Sasha start putting the apartment together. It was brilliant.

The buzz from his pocket startled him. Michael pulled out his phone, no missed calls, no texts. Slowly he pulled out the phone Sasha had prepared and looked at the screen. "Cheannaigh mé hata."

He smiled and remembered their communication plan from ten years ago. They had been working on developing a way to communicate secretly when they might not know where the other one was. Since the Internet was becoming more widely available, they devised a plan. They would set up a front website, there would be a way to get into a message board area where they could post messages. The messages would only be up for 12 hours and then they would be deleted. So their either had to be checking the website regularly, or manage to get a message to the other one to check it.

The website was "Madeline's Magnificent Millineries," a woman who made the most awful hats in her living room. So when Damian texted that he had bought a hat, Michael knew exactly what he meant. Even though Damian had written in Irish.

Anxiously, Michael locked up Sasha's apartment and logged into his computer back in the loft.

Sasha and Fiona were quiet for most of the four-hour drive to Stanford. Sasha was deep in her own thoughts. She was worried about what if anything Michael would hear from Damian. She felt a mixture of guilt and anger. Guilt because what if something had happened to Damian and she is in Florida playing dress up, and anger, because Damian hadn't been open with her. He hadn't told what was worrying him. Even if he had been assassinated, he would have sensed that something was going on and he should have told her. She wasn't a baby any more, or even a child. She could handle herself and she could handle the truth. It made her livid that Damian hadn't trusted her.

Fiona guessed at the inner turmoil Sasha was feeling. She had been young and very angry once too. She still had her moments when she felt that way and knew the best thing to do was to wait for Sasha to be ready to talk about it. Her phone vibrated in her pocket as they passed Boca Raton. She pulled it out several minutes later to confirm what road they should take and quietly looked at the text from Michael. "Established contact." So, mystery man Damian was still alive. Sasha could wait to hear about this from Michael. If Fiona told her now, she would probably want to turn around, but they needed to check for answers in the storage unit. She also needed to give Michael enough time to have some legitimate answers for Sasha, or she would only get more frustrated and impatient.


	5. Chapter 5

Michael's heart was racing as he got online. He had no idea what Damian would have to say, and that made him very nervous. He found the website and put 15 of the SASHA model hat in his shopping cart. When he went to check out, he put 030996 in the coupon code box and hit the update button. The code was Sasha's birthday. Instantly, he was taken to a hidden message board. Damian's message was waiting for him.

The gravel crunched under the truck's tires as they pulled up to unit 42. Sasha glanced at the padlock. It appeared to be the same one she had locked the unit with when she left several days ago. She'd broken the original lock using canned air, like the kind used to clean electronics, to crystallize the metal in the lock. She turned off the truck and she and Fiona stood in front of the large rollup door. Fiona lifted the lock to examine the bottom. "It doesn't look like it has been picked." She said, "But I can't promise anything." Sasha pulled the key out of her pocket and put it in the hole. It turned easily and the lock popped open. She slid the latch open and pushed the door up.

There was a pile of junk at the front of the unit to discourage thieves and confuse anyone who knew what they were looking for. Behind the ratty couch and piles of damaged boxes that were overflowing with old books, was a large gun safe. The gun safe had an old shotgun and a beat up .22 in it, but behind the hidden panel of the safe were several pounds of C4, detonation cord, burn phones, a laptop, passport and credit card blanks, and 4 semi-automatic pistols.

Everything was as she remembered it. Nothing looked out of place or different. Sasha hadn't expected anything to change, but she had halfway hoped that maybe this whole thing had been a test. Could she make it halfway across the world without getting caught? In her fantasy world, she would have opened the door and Damian would have been inside waiting for her. He would have given her a huge hug and told her how great she did and how proud of her he was. They would have gone back to Miami and maybe they could all work together again. She could have a whole family; Dad, Grandma, cool big sister, uncle, and whatever Sam would be…drunk great-uncle?

But, this is the real world, not some dreamland. Living in a dreamland was a good way to get killed. She needed to focus.

Fiona looked around the unit pleased by the cache of equipment. They would be leaving most of the stuff here, but the C4 was top quality and she was running low.

Meanwhile, back in Miami, Michael slowly read Damian's message.

Michael,

I am so sorry to send Sasha to you without any warning or explanation to either of you. Parenting is a rough gig, and I probably did the wrong thing, but I don't know what else to do. After you were burned, I realized I needed to help Sasha get to know the US a little and realize that she has other options besides the life I have. I could have been on the receiving end of that burn notice instead of you. We came to the states under the auspices of coming to the Farm for training, but I really wanted Sasha to have a chance to be a kid. When we were in Virginia 9 weeks ago, I had the Farm doctors run some tests because I hadn't been feeling right, I received the results a week before I sent Sasha to you. I've got cancer. So I am back in the states getting treated at a military hospital in DC. I figured Sasha would be better off with you and this way I wouldn't worry about her worrying about me. Besides, I didn't want a handler deciding what was going to happen to her while I was out of commission. I don't want her to see me like this. The prognosis is good, but they are going to have to be pretty aggressive with their treatment. She doesn't need to worry about this. The doctors think I should be finished with this round of treatment in 3 or 4 months. Assuming everything goes well, I'll be in Miami shortly there after and she and I can figure out what the plan is from there. Call me at this number, but please don't tell her. 301-555-9875 – I'm sure you will recognize me from Bogotá 2001. I owe you.

Damian

Michael dialed the number. "Walter Reed National Military Medical Center, how may I direct your call?" A woman's voice answered the phone.

Michael answered, "Major Nicholas Garcia, I believe he is an oncology patient."

"One moment please." Damian's cover in Bogota in 2001 had been Air Force Major Nicholas Garcia. If he were being treated at a military facility, he'd need a military cover.

The phone rang twice and a deep voice answered the phone, "Garcia."

"Garcia, are you as stupid as you are ugly? You know Солнышкo will figure out what happened and where you are. You had better hope the cancer kills you because if it doesn't, she will. My guess is whatever she does to you will hurt more." Michael was relieved to hear his friend's voice, but wanted to be sure he understood that Michael was not protecting him from Sasha's wrath.

"Michael, you got my message. I'm glad you called. Have you really gone so soft that you can't stand up to interrogation by a 15-year-old?"

"You sent her to me because you think I can't leave Miami, and I wouldn't send her to DC on her own. You think you have 4 months for her to cool off before she sees you again."

"Am I wrong?" Damian laughed.

"As a matter of fact you are. I was in DC a few weeks ago and I have the feeling I will be going back very soon."

"You are back in?"

"I'm back in, but staying based in Miami for now. Things are good."

"You are going to let a little girl come and kick a poor sick man's ass?"

"If he doesn't have the balls to tell his own daughter what's going on."

"Did I mention it's testicular cancer? I am a little sensitive about 'balls' comments since I'm not sure if I get to keep mine. So no, I might not have the balls to tell Sasha."

"Come on man, I can't keep this from her."

"Where is she?"

"She is at the storage unit you rented in Orlando. She is trying to find anything that will tell her why you sent her away."

"YOU LET HER GO TO ORLANDO BY HERSELF?"

"This coming from the man who faked his own death so his daughter would run halfway around the world _on her own_. And no, I did not let her go to Orlando by herself. Fiona went with her."

"Fiona? Fiona Glenanne? Are you seeing her again? That woman is crazy."

"Yeah, I know. But she gets me and you'd better watch it. She and Sasha are pretty tight. They have closed ranks on me more than once already. So, even if I couldn't take Sasha up north, Fiona would, and she'd be more likely to shoot you. Why didn't you tell her? Better yet, why didn't you tell me?"

"Come on man, you know I couldn't call you. If I'd known you were back in; I would have reached out. I would have gone through official channels to send Sasha to you. Mike, you are the only one I trust with her. I had to get her to you, and I thought you were still persona non grata, and I wouldn't be able to. There are a number of people at Langley who are very interested in her and I couldn't trust her to be with me if I'm not 100%."

"I get it. I'll take care of her, but I cannot promise she won't come up to see you. I will do my best to keep her away, but she is going to want to talk to you. You don't think anyone is going to come after her while she is here do you? How motivated are these interested parties?"

"I think she is fine as long as she is with you. Your reputation precedes you. Not only were you a kick ass spy, you have the mystery of having been burned and gotten back in. That makes you super spy number one. I don't think anyone will mess with you. Just make sure people know she's with you."

"What about you, what's the prognosis?"

"I'm stage II, which isn't good, but it's still very treatable. I am scheduled to start chemo on Monday. They will see how I respond and then decide if they need to operate or add radiation. I will be here for a few months before they know how things are going. I'm not worried. I'm going to beat this and I will be down in Miami before you know it."

"Good. When Sasha gets back I'm going to tell her. I promise to keep her from driving to DC to kill you. If I can get her calmed down enough, I'm going to have her call you. You didn't see her when she showed up here. You really shook her up. She didn't make any mistakes, but she was holding it together solely by will power. She fell apart on my mother's front porch. It might take her a while to forgive you."

"I know. I'm relying on you to help her out, get her through this."

"You owe me"

"I know.

"I'll talk to you later once I've talked to Sasha."

"Thanks Michael."

"Take care man."

Michael hung up the phone and thought about how to face Sasha. He was going to need back up. He picked up his phone and did something he didn't think he'd ever do… he called his Mom.


End file.
